


Top Dog

by Lightspeed



Series: Monstrous Intent [39]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Anal Sex, Animal Transformation, Belly Rubs, Biting, Butt Plugs, Dom/sub, Dominance, Dry Humping, Hand Jobs, Hilarious Animal Noises, Kitsune, Knotting, M/M, Master/Pet, Multi, Oral Sex, Pet Play, Puppy Play, Transformation, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 16:44:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6087127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightspeed/pseuds/Lightspeed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Demoman, Sniper, and Spy joked about establishing dominance and pet play the first time they had sex together.  A few months later, they've finally decided to follow through with that.  Amid this, Spy shows them his true face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Top Dog

**Author's Note:**

> POTENTIAL SQUICK: In this AU, Spy is a kitsune. Which means he's a faerie creature, a shapeshifter whose natural shape is that of a red fox (with three tails), and whom just usually spends his time in human shape. He's sapient, ancient, and fully able to consent. Nothing sexual happens to him when he is in his natural shape in this story, but he does assume this form at points. So at risk of spoiling things, be aware of this going in. No zoophilia or bestiality takes place (I would never write such things), but the reminder of what Spy's natural shape is might be squicky.

“That's a good kit,” Sniper hummed, his hand slowly traveling the length of Spy's smooth back. Rough callouses traced scarred skin, running from shoulder to hip, then back up. His fingers tickled a line up Spy's neck to the top of his head, where his human ears had shifted into a pair of pointed, black, fuzzy fox's ears. He scratched behind them, and the rogue made small noises of appreciation as he lounged atop the marksman's bed, naked save for a leather collar and curled up with his three tails wrapped about himself.

Sniper was there with him, petting and soothing him with gentle caresses, telling him he was a good boy, that he was a pretty little fox, and in all being a very good, sweet master for his finicky pet. Demoman was there, too, more than a little jealous of their master giving Spy all of the attention when he had been sitting patiently at the Australian's side, heeling like a good dog for near on five minutes.

He hadn't quite mastered sitting on his haunches, so the bomber, clad in a collar, knee pads, and a doggy-ear headband, did the best he could by leaning on his hip. Sitting on his butt was out of question, thanks to the fluffy wolf tail that poked out from between his cheeks, attached to the end of a fat butt plug that penetrated his well-lubed ass.

Sniper had made sure to slick up his pets very well, and Spy, too, wore a plug, but since he actually had tails, it was a simple black affair that stretched him comfortably. As the kitsune luxuriated in the attention he was given, he stretched a bit, shivering as the toy shifted inside of him, and rolled onto his back. His legs were in the air just a bit, and his 'paws' were drawn up against his chest. He inched his back against the bed with glee as Sniper began to rub his belly.

Demoman huffed. He wanted belly rubs. But the new pet was soaking up all his attention, and he didn't like it one bit. Sniper was _his_ human. _He_ was the top dog around here, and he wasn't about to let Spy take his place in the hierarchy.

At least, that's what the scene was. Because he was keen to go on about how _that's not how bloody wolves work, that whole_ _rough_ _alpha wolf nonsense is shite, they're cooperativ_ _e with just a touch o' hirearchy_ , until Spy pointed out that he frankly did not care, and that foxes did not even form packs aside from small family units. And that both species tended to establish such things with body waste, which he followed with a few piss jokes flung in Sniper's direction. And besides, Demoman was a werewolf, not a wolf, and werewolves did tend to have more of a combative hierarchy because of the human influence, and also only tend to cooperate when there are actually enough in one place to form packs. To which Demoman had huffed and plainly told the rogue not to explain his own culture to him. Spy had promptly shrugged and said that if _that_ had been irrelevant, then so was realistic dominance dynamics amid canid species. Only one of the three men in the room was _actually_ a canid, he had been amused to remind him. He'd had a point, and after  the bomber's concession, they settled down and the three men decided on how the scene would go.

Spy was a sucker for being dominated, and Sniper was a sucker for spoiling his pets. Demoman? Demoman was a sucker for skinny perverts, apparently. And tummy rubs.

But Spy was hogging _all_ of the tummy rubs, which did not sit well with the werewolf, who himself could not presently sit well. He climbed onto his knees and sat on his heels, he tail of his plug pressing the floor and making the toy change angles. He whimpered at the pleasant sensation, and it was enough to rouse Sniper's attention.

“What's wrong, boy?” he asked, a broad smile across his face. He turned fully to look at the impatient pup, one hand still stroking Spy's belly and venturing lower with each passing moment. The kitsune was hard, and his soft breaths of desire picked up speed as that broad, knobby hand rapidly headed exactly where he wanted it to.

Demoman whined, patting his balled fists against the floor and letting out a grumble, unable to communicate his needs. He couldn't speak other than a quiet bark, and Sniper's free hand came to rest amid his curly hair, nails dragging lightly against his scalp. He craned into the touch.

“You jealous, pup?” Sniper asked with a chuckle, his hand reaching the base of Spy's cock. He let his fingers slowly wrap around it and squeeze, making Spy gasp.

More whines left the wolf's throat, and he leaned his chin against Sniper's thigh, his eye staring intently at the hand that was now slowly stroking Spy, drawing soft sounds from him as he writhed on the bed. Fluffy tails lashed about lazily, and the fox pressed his ears against his head as he reveled in the warm thrum of pleasure spreading through him, Sniper's calloused hand jerking him off.

“What's wrong, pup?” the bushman teased, speeding his hand and smirking wide at Spy's gasp and answering arch of hips.

Demoman growled, leaving Sniper's side to round the bed, to round on Spy. His master allowed it, curiously observing, and soon the werewolf was perched halfway on the bed, his 'paws' bowing the mattress beside Spy's shoulder as he hovered over the kitsune, staring directly into his eyes with intensity. Spy met his gaze after a moment, challenging him, and Demoman growled in response, warning him.

Sniper's hand left Spy, and he backed away a bit, not wanting to get in the middle of the confrontation. The last thing he wanted was to be bitten by his own pets, and he understood that sometimes, dogs needed to figure out their places amongst one another. He had seen it enough with the family sheepdogs back home growing up. He remembered being terrified to see his faithful heeler, Courage, establish herself to the other farm dogs, barking and snarling and wrestling them down. But then they were playing again in no time, her place amongst them made clear. She was, after all, as much a pet as an employee, and thus higher rank than the working dogs.

With a huff, Spy pitched up onto his hip. He glared at Demoman, never breaking eye contact. He had made their master go away and stop touching him. He had taken attention that was rightfully his. He slipped from between Demoman's arms and rose to all fours, intent on taking issue more actively.

Then the wolf's chin was atop his shoulder, and he heard low growling beside his head. Demoman was placing his head atop the highest point on the fox's body, demanding he be acknowledged. He was above Spy. He was the one in charge. He would have first food, first treats, first play, and first attention. He would have his share, and Spy would have the remainder. The kitsune tried to back out of the position, to slip from beneath his chin, only for Demoman to follow him, keeping his head atop the smaller canid.

Spy huffed, a small whine rising in his throat. Demoman wanted dominance, did he? The lumbering wolf thought he was the one in charge here, simply because he was their master's favourite? He gekkered, a clicking rising in his throat, and reared up, throwing Demoman off the bed.

The wolf landed on his back, and immediately Spy was atop him, gekkering loudly. He snapped at the werewolf's neck, nipping at bare skin and making him yelp. Demoman snapped back, just missing the fox's jaw, and kicked his legs, trying to force him off. But Spy was nimble, and he bit again, vulpine sounds leaving his throat with perfect accuracy, where Demoman could just approximate his own with his human voice. It was almost unsettling, and with a heave, the werewolf rolled out from under his assailant, snarling. This was not over.

Spy rose on all fours, his tails lifting into the air and his ears folded down, pointing out to the sides. He was ready for a fight, and Demoman was more than happy to acquiesce. He had no canid ears or proper tail to express this with, so he bore his teeth and tried to ignore the throb of his cock hanging heavy between his thighs, beginning to weep precome. Every movement, every shift, every slight change in his position had the fluffy tail sticking out of the plug inside him swinging and wagging, electric jolts of pleasure crackling through him with each bare motion. It was maddening.

They launched at one another, a flurry of snapping teeth and awful sound, pawing close-fisted at one another in an attempt to gain the advantage. Hands rose onto backs, onto shoulders, trying to push one another down, to bite at necks and force the other to the floor. When they broke, they circled around one another, preparing for another attack. A smirk crossed Spy's lips, and he held his tails out flat, his ears tilting outward in a display of courtship, which only infuriated Demoman further. He was taking this about as seriously as he took most things: not at all. The wolf wasn't about to have that. He charged Spy, and throwing his weight into it, forced him down to the floor. He climbed atop him and rutted against his ass, forcing his tails out of the way as he humped the lube-slick plug barring his way, his cock aching from disuse. He had been hard for so long, and the jostling each movement did to the tail plug inside of him was driving him further to desperation. He reached down and slipped Spy's butt plug out, ready to enter him, to take him, to claim him.

Spy half-turned, leaning up to lick at the werewolf's mouth, showing submission in the face of the larger hound's conquest. He received a whine in reply, Demoman humping helplessly at him. He was so horny, so turned on, and in such need it was almost pathetic. The fox grinned.

Suddenly, Demoman had no purchase, no hot body to lean upon, no slippery ass to thrust against, no fluffy tails falling about his hips. He slumped to the floor in surprise, yelping, and rose, looking about in confusion. Then he saw it: an actual fox. Four legs, black paws, slim muzzle, and bright orange fur. It was a tiny little thing, not much larger than a cat, and three tails extended from its back end. It wore a look of complete amusement, and hopped up onto Demoman's back.

Sniper's eyes went wide at the sight. As he had watched, a sudden twisting of the man's shape was all of the warning he'd had as suddenly Spy was not there, and a little red fox had taken his place, darting out from under the werewolf before he could be crushed. Now, it fluffed up its tails and gekkered, then hopped off of the man, rounding behind him.

He had transformed so quickly it was nearly an eye-blink, flesh and bone changing size and shape in near instant. It was the direct opposite of Demoman's long, trying transformations.

Another rapid shift, and Spy had returned, a smug, satisfied look on his face as he took hold of Demoman's hip in one hand and his false tail in the other. He slid the fat plug out of him and cast it aside, and replaced it with his own cock, mounting the large man with a quiet, vulpine sound.

Any surprise and disbelief that had consumed Demoman was shunted aside as he was entered, the firm heat of the kitsune's erection serving as blessed relief from that damned plug that filled him so clumsily. Almost immediately, Spy was thrusting, folding himself over the werewolf and covering him with his body as his hips bucked, driving deep into him and barely pulling back enough to push in again. He sighed, relaxing fully into the sensation, into being dominated, and grumbled his pleasure.

Spy nipped gently at Demoman's back, grinding into him, waiting for what he knew was coming. He slowly let his shape slip a little more, a little more, the flesh around his hands and feet growing dark as it took on the colouration of his fur. His nails grew into claws. And finally, he was enough of his true self for it to happen: Demoman felt Spy's cock begin to grow inside of him.

It didn't quite grow exactly, but all the same it became thicker, stretching him just inside the first ring of muscle, and he realized: Spy was knotting up. Muscle tied inside of him, forming a fat knot at the base of the kitsune's cock and locking them together in coitus, and the bomber couldn't hold back a human moan at the sensation. So this was what it felt like? No wonder Sniper was such a fan.

He heard a laugh against his back, and then Spy was thrusting faster, harder, each upstroke tugging at him from the inside, keeping them tied and forcing a harder downstroke. He bucked as deep as he could into the werewolf, hips moving with erratic speed, and short, rough breaths puffed out of him against Demoman's warm skin.

The werewolf gasped, whining his best as he let his cheek press to the floor, his knees grateful for the pads he wore as he supported both of their weights and the force of Spy's increasingly-frenzied fucking. The short thrusts hammered fire into his belly, pressure and hunger consuming him in a beautiful symphony of vulpine grunts. Clawed hands grasped at him, gripping him tightly as Spy humped him, and soon there were teeth on his shoulder; sharper, longer then they had been before.

Then, like a gift from heaven, there was Sniper's hand. It snaked up the inside of his thigh, teasing at heated, hairy skin, and cupped at his balls, which swayed with each pound of Spy's hips against him. He rolled them in his palm a moment, then moved forward, wrapping strong, rough fingers around his cock, which was so hard it was nearly painful. Demoman whined, and then Sniper was stroking him, jerking him off as Spy fucked him, rutting and hissing as he dominated him completely. But at least their master was merciful, and finally giving him some attention.

It was almost too much attention. A cock in his ass, his cock in Sniper's hand, and it felt so good. _He_ felt so good. He was being dominated by both Spy and Sniper, but spoiled all the same, and as that cock hammered into his ass with increasing abandon, he felt the pressure in his gut begin to spill over. Sniper's hand traced fire on his skin, prickling ecstasy through every nerve as he jerked him off, and with a yelp, he came in his hand. His cock throbbed, pumping out his seed across the bushman's fingers, his long-delayed release culminating in shaking shudders and vicious clenches around Spy's knotted cock.

The kitsune bucked in, the slap of skin to skin filling the room, each sharp sound bringing him closer and closer. The clamping muscles around him drew him to the edge like the tug of a receding tide. At last, he shoved his cock as deep as it could go and filled Demoman with come, emptying his load into the werewolf's ass with juddering, humping thrusts. His triumph sounded in a vulpine cry, his legs shuddering and his tails quaking as the flames of his ardor guttered and were spent, then he collapsed atop him, sated and shivering. He was still knotted, and didn't care enough to revert his form back to human enough to undo it.

“That's a good pup,” Sniper cooed, walking on his knees to kneel in front of Demoman, rather than awkwardly at his side. He held his soiled hand up to the mouth of the werewolf, who obediently licked it clean. “Good boy.”

Spy hummed his agreement, raking his nails lazily down the bomber's shoulders.

Demoman was so full, so warm, his ass loaded with come and cock in equal measure, neither of which would be leaving for some time, and as he swallowed his own come, licking it from his master's fingers, he moaned. He was a good boy. Spy might have dominance, but he _was_ a good boy.

“You know you're my favourite,” Sniper soothed, petting at the wolf's head with his cleaner hand, letting fingers drift behind his real ear to scratch gently. “And you'll always be the most spoiled.” He chuckled as Demoman opened his single brown eye to look gratefully up at him. “So how's one last treat sound, yeh?”

Demoman whimpered in curiosity and exhaustion. Sniper unzipped his trousers and popped their button, then drew his cock out of his pants. The scent of his arousal filled the wolf's acute senses, and he salivated. He pitched up onto his elbows as the bushman scooted closer, and soon buried his face in the man's crotch, mouthing at his cock with hunger and abandon. God, he tasted so good. So right. And his smell! Musky and just a touch of sweat amid soap and laundry detergent and the salt tang of precome that he knew must have dampened the inside of his trousers where his cock had been trapped behind denim. Sniper wore no underwear, and the habit drove Demoman all the more mad with lust. He sucked the bushman's cock between his lips and drank in the groan that met his ears.

His tongue undulated against its underside, tasting him, reveling in his flavour, in the heat and softness of his tender skin, and like the obedient hound he was, he did whatever he could to make his master happy. He took him as deeply as he could, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked with all of his skill, saliva running slowly down his lips as he began to bob. Broad, rough hands pet through his hair, holding the back of his head as Sniper reveled in the heat and wet of that skilled, lovely mouth. The bushman arched into him, his breaths coming in ragged moans, his hips rolling slowly in time with the bobbing of the bomber's head.

Demoman wanted to taste this forever. To taste Sniper forever. In and out of scene, in and out of the canid headspace he hovered amid, he cherished his lover's flavour, his scent, his sounds and feel. Spy was fun for dalliances, and a good friend, and that lovely knot in his ass was delightful, but Sniper was his whole world, and he was so glad to finally have him. To have his attention and give his own. The anticipation only made the reward all the sweeter, and he slurped along the bushman's length with a flutter in his chest and a heat in his gut.

Drool ran down Sniper's balls, and the bushman shivered. Demoman's mouth was too good, too hot, too wet, too skilled, and he looked down at the handsome Scotsman with adoration. He wasn't just a good pup. He was a great lover, and the best boyfriend, and holy shit was he amazing at licking things. His hands tightened in the bomber's tightly curled hair, and he began to tense, the heat and pressure pooling in his groin growing too tight, too strong. He buckled forward and with a groan, flooded his lover's mouth with come, his hips shaking to keep from fucking that lovely mouth, those soft, full lips. He let Demoman suck it out of him, coax every single drop of seed from his body, and shivered at the sound of him audibly swallowing. It was overstimulating to the point of discomfort, and only then did he pull his spit-soaked cock from the werewolf's mouth. Demoman panted, smiling like the happiest pup in the world.

“Good boy,” Sniper breathed.

 

*

 

Once Spy had finally unknotted, the kitsune and Sniper helped clean Demoman up and tugged him up onto the bed, discarding the silly dog-ear headband in the process. Sniper pulled the bomber into his arms and fairly wrapped himself around him, peppering his forehead with kisses. “You alright, mate?”

“Bloody lovely,” was the Demoman's reply, raising an eyebrow to Spy. “That was low, ye ken.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Spy sniffed, smirking. His teeth were still too sharp, and the effect made him look terribly threatening.

“I'd have won if ye hadn't turned intae a bloody wee fox. Sort o' a boner-killer, that.”

“You seem to have gotten it back just fine.” Spy stretched, and like that, his body shifted. He shrank, his face elongated, his feet and hands became paws and his entire bone structure changed in a near instant as a wave of orange spread across him, fur springing suddenly from his skin. Seated beside the bomber on the bed was a proper fox, save for its three tails. “Though I am amused to see you take the knot as well as I have heard you give it,” he countered, speaking clearly through his little muzzle. The novelty of a little red fox with a French accent had the bomber laughing.

“Probably because his is about three or four times the size of yours,” Sniper chuckled.

“Come now,” Spy drolled, fluffing up his tails and laying down on his belly. He curled his tails around himself one at a time. “This is no call for a literal dick-measuring contest. I know where I stand. Or, lie, as the case may be. And I am content with it. However I am more than a little curious to see such a coupling. After all, if you're not exaggerating, I'm frankly impressed that you continue to live, my dear bushman. Or Scout, from what I hear. Though that is less surprising. _You_ are human, after all.”

“Ye sayin' yer keen tae watch us shag?” Demoman smirked.

“Don't I have a front row seat to that every so often anyway?” Spy countered. He opened his maw wide in a yawn, showcasing his many pointed teeth in a way that was, even to the men who had just had sex with him, terribly cute. “I guarantee you there is not a man on base who is not interested in seeing that. Even Engineer, if nothing else than morbid curiosity, I assure you. And I'm sure Medic would love to contrast and compare you to his Heavy's recent...temporary upgrade.”

The lovers shared an amused look. It was more than entertaining living on a base filled with perverts. After a moment of quiet, Sniper turned back to Spy. “Right, well, maybe someone will be lucky next month,” he said. “But, er, for now, I think we could use some rest. And, personally, I'd rather not talk about my bloke's cock with a little fox.”

“Prude,” Spy laughed, lowering his head to rest atop his paws. He lashed his tails a bit before settling them back into place and letting his eyes slide closed. The other men similarly let themselves relax and cozy in for a nap. Before allowing himself to drift, the fox murmured, “If either of you roll on top of me in your sleep I will backstab you. Just a warning.”


End file.
